R a i n d r o p s
by triciasama
Summary: Suguru will follow the dream wherever it may lead. Yet when that dream finally crumbles and seizes its unwilling prey in the grasp of depression, love finds a way to conquer and rebuild. Eventual slash pairing.
1. Ambition

**R a i n d r o p s**  
_...let them wash away your pain_  
by: triciasama

* * *

Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. This piece is written solely for leisure and no profit is  
claimed.

* * *

Fame. It is not the sugar-coated delicacy flaunted in front of the screaming public, the sticky, pink tongues of sweetness that promise to envelope you as soon as you manage to clamber into the spotlight of the public eye. Not a delicate, wondrous reward after years of toiling and weeping on knees to gain recognition, appreciation, for the work you have churned out for decades. It is nothing like what is splayed out in tabloids and airbrushed advertisements, where crowned teeth are displayed in a smile of inexplicable ecstasy and glitter is sprinkled over perfect bodies and glimmering talent. 

Fame creates, but it also destroys. It destroys some of the most talented, corrupts the steadfastly honest and it tarnishes the souls of those who manage to survive through the overwhelming wave of attention and expectations. It is unforgiving, snaring its unwitting prey and drowning them torturously slowly, and there are few who manage to clamber out of the trap unscathed.

Unfortunately, Suguru Fujisaki was not one of them.

* * *

**  
Chapter One: Ambition**

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* * *

**

He did not understand.

He had declared at a very early age that he wanted to be the world's best musician. He would work hard, grow up and work his way up into the limelight, where everyone could appreciate his talents and he could make a lot of money too. He would be very rich and he would have lots of friends who loved him very much. He would even appear on television or magazines from time to time. That was what he wanted to do.

His parents knew his deep-rooted ambition. Yet they still pleaded him to pry his eyes from the lilting musical notes that swept across lined paper and instead focus his attention on the other sort of notes, the type where you draw ghastly neon stripes across pages and pages of text and copy them down meticulously in pen, because that was what people do if they wanted to succeed in life. They go to school and study hard. They do not seat themselves in front of a piano everyday and bang out meaningless songs and scales with useless determination.

"_But I want to be the world's best musician!" He protested, stubbornly continuing to play._

"_That's nice, Su-" his mother smiled, using his nickname. But her smile was forced, and the nickname was cut off sharply at the end of the sentence, so he knew that she did not agree even though that was what she said. "But you should focus more on studies, you know. You could even be a great doctor or lawyer in the future if you study hard."_

"_I don't want to be a doctor or lawyer. I want to be a musician," the six-year-old boy grumbled from atop his piano chair, his swinging legs not even scraping the ground._

"_Su, being a musician is nice-"_

"_The world's best musician," he corrected softly._

"_Being the world's best musician is nice," she repeated soothingly. "But honey, you should focus on something more stable... like being a doctor, or a teacher for example."_

"_Why?" He gazed up at her questioningly, hands folded abashedly under his shorts-clad thighs._

_She sighed a moment before continuing. "Well, sometimes, even though you are really good, you may not get a job. And you may not make enough money to support yourself next time. Mummy just wants you to have a good life."_

_Suguru gazed down at his feet, moving slightly and hearing the squirm of leather beneath him. He thought for a moment, although a familiar wave of disappointment was flooding through him as his parents disapproved of perusing his wonderful passion yet again. He swallowed, and replied in a strained voice that tinged of hope._

"_Cousin Tohma is a musician and he gets paid really well."_

"_These things only happen sometimes," she stroked his hair gently, running her fingers through the neatly-placed strands. Her touch grazed the cynical determination that was too mature for his age and stirred his emotions. He relented. "Maybe you can do it next time... but now, you should study hard and be a good boy."_

"_Yes, mummy."_

_A gentle kiss on his forehead was the reply, as the warm stroke of the palm left his bowl-cut hair. The words that came were merely punctuations that he already knew so well._

"_Now, go do your homework. And make sure you let me check it before you go and play, okay?"_

_He nodded, because that was what a good boy did. He listened to his mother. He left the piano that he cherished so much, and rummaged through his bag to slide into the world of squiggled words and meaningless numbers yet again._

He never understood why parents always told their children that they would support them whatever course they choose to take in their life, and yet discourage him who is so full of determination, telling the child that it is a seemingly futile ambition. They tell them to follow their heart, and yet ask them never to take up writing, music or be an artist, the noble arts of sweeping talent and opinions of otherworldly forms onto paper or canvas, for they would surely starve to death and beg on the streets one day.

He did not understand why his parents did not want him to be a musician.

Yet he could also understand why they did not want him to pursue the ambition blindly. To have another plan to fall back on; a sanctuary to crawl into when the bright, shining hopes were battered and dashed cruelly by the darkened world. He was also an obedient boy. His parents were proud of him, and many a time his father had clapped him on his back and proclaimed loudly how clever and determined his son was to his visiting colleagues, while his mother nodded politely with folded hands on her lap, awarding him with a gentle smile. He could not disappoint them.

So, he compromised. He would seat himself on an embroidered cushion everyday, spreading out the papers and books on the polished desk where the golden rays of sun permeated the window pane directly above the desk. Then he would slip on a pair of earphones which was seemingly too large for his young head, looking more like black, fluffed earmuffs than listening pieces. A flick of a finger would switch on a nearby music player, pouring out the lilting notes of Bach and Shumann into his musically-starved being. With that, he worked.

Suguru Fujisaki worked hard. He rose quickly to the top of his class. The polished cabinets in the house began to fill with slightly-tarnished trophies and framed certificates of academic awards. People began to take notice of him. A child prodigy, they would exclaim, at the top of his class for five consecutive years even in elementary school, not to mention the amount of awards he had won through quizzes and competitions.

Sometimes he would glance at the dusty top of the once-gleaming piano, the ancient desire and passion creeping into him. But he would shake his head, and remind himself that there was a world of reality and not fantasy in front of him. People do not play scales everyday and live a good life in the future. People studied hard and went to university, then got a job, for a successful and fruitful life.

_Yes_, he would reassure himself.

Then he would walk away without another glance.

Maybe.

* * *

Yet, maybe was out of the question after that fateful event. 

The sweltering atmosphere of the classroom, if possible, was unusually warm even for a summer's day. The students were clamouring restlessly about, splayed pages of homework laid out untouched on tables and pencils strewn carelessly on scribbled notebooks. Ripples of laughter and mingling voices filled the enclosed space, and yet there was still a little boy at the back with his nose buried in his books, determined to finish his homework.

This boy was of course, Suguru Fujisaki.

His determination was not without reason, though. After realizing how much music meant to him, his mother had finally relented, ending the musical famine within him and let him attend piano lessons after school, provided that he managed to finish his homework in class. He had decided that sacrificing the few hours wrestling with words and numbers would be a fair exchange for being able to create a musical, flowing prose from the black and white keys for a few moments.

So, he continued writing, even as his classmates chatted rowdily and swatted him playfully on the shoulder for being such a bookworm, he merely acknowledged them with a sheepish smile.

"I have to finish my homework because I have lessons after school," he would politely explain.

"Lessons after school again? Suguru, you're just..." They would trail off before shaking their heads, an admiring yet pitying grin twisting their lips as they finally turned back to their previous conversations.

He was still bent over the books, scribbling furiously, when the teacher came in. He did not look up even as a wave of silence fell automatically over the classroom, and students returned obediently to their seats. Nor did he do much but stand up mechanically as the whole class stood, bidding their teacher a "Good morning, sensei" before seating themselves again. However, he did tilt his head in interest as the teacher, instead of picking up the chalk and writing on the blackboard, drew out a large poster and displayed it to the class.

"Class, as you all know, this is your last year in our school," he began, flicking the curling paper up with a swipe of his hand as he held the poster up again. "As a school tradition, we will be participating in a year six choir competition to decide which class will be performing at the annual graduation ceremony this year."

Scratch, scratch. The pencil resumed its crawl over the lined paper tentatively.

"This would not be an easy task. It will require teamwork and a lot of determination and hard work."

The pencil journeyed across the page, flitting across the lined paper and leaving neat scribbles in its wake.

"I do expect that the whole class will participate in the choir," the teacher paused to clear his throat. Suguru continued writing. Other students were poised straight in their chair, leaning forwards slightly in anticipation, not of the competition itself, but actually with glee that the teacher had taken lesson time to explain this, and were hoping that he would continue on long enough.

"But we do need a pianist to accompany the choir."

Clack. The pencil fell on the splayed paper and hastily made its escape to the tabletop. Hands fumbled sheepishly for the escapee, and Suguru silently chided himself for allowing the comment to influence him that much. It was not like they would choose him. They did not even know he played the piano, or that he loved music with all his heart. All they knew was Suguru Fujisaki was a bookworm, always toiling and sweating over his work. It was one of the many faces, the facades, he put up for blatant display.

"Will anyone be as kind as to volunteer?"

The scratching resumed, albeit slower, cautiously. Murmuring and giggling rippled over the class, as some tried their best to keep their heads low, and some were elbowing each other and teasing almost soundlessly.

"Anyone?"

There was no show of hands. The classroom was presumably silent. Sighing, the teacher unconsciously ruffled the poster with his hand, gazing hopefully over the crowd of bobbing heads. Still none.

"Well, how about Kaegi-san?" He attempted after moments of hesitating, smiling at the direction of a pony-tailed girl in the front seat, who vigorously shook her head.

"I'm not good enough, sir. I'm only in grade three," she quickly added, putting her fisted hands to her lips. Realizing that the unwavering gazes of her classmates were upon her, she swiveled in her seat and gestured to a usually rowdy boy in the middle row. "I think Fujimura-san can play for us, sir. He's in grade four this year, he'll be better than I am."

A shuffle, and gazes were switched to him instead.

"Me play onstage? Sorry, sir, I can't," he smiled sheepishly, not even acknowledging the stares and merely elbowing his seatmate who had just inconspicuously poked him when his name was called out. The teacher nodded tentatively, his lips curled between his teeth as he pondered the situation. Everyone knew that Fujimura, as loud and talented as he was, didn't have the ounce of discipline to balance him. In fact, he was notorious for being late to school, even though the school masters had already caned him once or twice. It wouldn't do if he turned up late on the day of the choir competition, or not at all.

"It's alright, Fujimura-san, we won't force you," the sensei finally replied with a soft smile, still clutching the poster dejectedly. His gaze flitted over the entire class again, hoping some warm soul would volunteer. "Anyone?"

"Kaegi-san, could you be as kind as to at least try-"

A violent scraping of the chair turned his attention to the wry boy at the back, his hand raised high in the air and his now unwanted pencil dropping to the floor with a loud clack.

"Sir, I shall be the pianist."

A sudden murmur rose like the winds blowing through the yellowed canyons, loud and then dissipating as if it had never happened. Suguru felt the blood rush to his cheeks as his legs wobbled in sudden nervousness. He wondered whether to speak, but the teacher quickly made up his mind for him.

"Fujisaki-san... I didn't know you played the piano?"

He tried to speak, expecting his tone to be hoarse as his throat was parched like someone had stuffed dry cotton wool into in, but his voice came out clear and confident, tinged with passion. "I do. I love to play the piano, and I know the song very well. I'll play for the choir, sir."

"Well, if you think you can-"

"I know I can."

"Well then, Fujisaki-san shall accompany our choir on the piano. And I want to wish everyone the best of luck in this competition. Do practice hard, I have faith in you."

On the day of the concert, even as his skilled fingers flitted across the keyboard with astounding precision and skill, he felt elsewhere as the elation of playing onstage for the first time flooded through his veins in a chilling wave. The clear, silvery notes echoed throughout the wooden-paneled hall, and the heat of the cheap overhead spotlights bore down on him. Every note, every light touch on the keys exuded a piece of his thoughts and soul into them, spreading throughout the silent air as music, wonderful music.

It was then he knew he wanted to be a musician, and nothing else.

* * *

"Tohma?" 

Suguru was picking at the non-existent lint on his shirt gently, gazing out at the sky from his perch on the slightly damp ground. He turned to his cousin, who was pondering quietly, dressed stately in his bowler hat and neon green shirt, clashing immensely with the traditional surroundings.

"Hai, Suguru-kun?" the blond replied without turning his head.

"Do you think that I should-" Suguru's shy statement was cut off by a sudden hand on his shoulder, and his cousin smiling at him, wispy golden locks teasing his eyes. He had grown it longer when he was in New York, despite complaints from his family members.

"Go on, there's no need to hesitate."

"I-I'm thinking of studying music in Tokyo."

"Good for you. Congratulations."

"But I don't think my parents would allow me. Besides, I do not think that they would want to accept such a lousy pianist like me."

A quick look of surprise flitted across the older man's face, and a slight frown blemished his features.

"Eh, why wouldn't your parents allow you?"

"They think that I should focus more on academics. That music is just a waste of time," Suguru realized that his sounded slightly desperate, choking on the words, but it was something that had been lingering inside of him for so long, it was just impossible to lose the emotional part when it came to confiding it.

"Hmm. I understand. After all, they do want the best for you. All of us do."

Tohma's face betrayed no emotion, and the younger boy's hopes fell immediately. He bowed his head, drawing his teeth over his lips tightly as he resumed picking on his shirt.

"And confidence, Suguru-kun. You're a great pianist, I told you so already. Most importantly, you do love music, don't you?"

There was a long pause before he answered. "Yes, I do."

"Then don't let anything stand in your way of pursuing your dream. If you'd like, I can have a talk with your parents. If they would not finance your musical education I shall gladly fund you."

Tohma expected Suguru to perk up immediately, but the boy remained silent for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts and digesting them. When he looked up, though, there was no mistaking the mists of fulfilled dreams and joyful hopes that were clouding his eyes.

"Really?"

Tohma nodded. "You have great promise. A diamond in the rough is as good as nothing. You need the education, the potential to succeed in the music industry. I might as well provide the polishing, don't you think?"

"Cousin Tohma, I can't...that's so incredibly kind of you..."

"I'll try. But have faith, Suguru-kun. I believe in you."

"Thank you."

Even as the raindrops fell from the darkened skies above, pinpricks delving into the thin fabric of his cotton shirt and larger drops cascading from trees in splatters, he smiled.

**End chapter one**

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Author's note: Unbeta-ed as usual, because I'm always in a dire need of one when no one's available. I'm afraid the last part might seem rushed, but I was intending on not dragging the chapter out too much. Comments and criticism are appreciated, and praise shall make me dance about the room in joy. Thank you for reading. There will be more chapters. 


	2. Decision

**R a i n d r o p s**  
_...let them wash away your pain_  
by: triciasama

Chapter 2 – Decision

* * *

The heels of the polished shoes clacked loudly on the rusted stairs as Suguru Fujisaki, laden with baggage and a scarlet tinge in his cheeks which betrayed the fact that he had trudged all the way from the airport to the apartment building to save on taxi fare, trudged up the winding staircase. However, the startling noise could hardly rival the assortment of musical notes and drawn-out screams throbbing from the floors above, the waves vibrating so intensely that he was sure they shook the very foundation of the dilapidated building.

A young brunet man gazed out from the doorway, his naturally black haired streaked with blond and red. Squinting slightly in the dark, he peered at Suguru, looking at him up and down, as if assessing the potential threat. His eyes quickly took in the young boy's neatly pressed shirt and slacks and the indifferent expression on his features quickly soured into a frown.

"No, I don't wanna join your church. Go away," the door quickly closed in front of him, and Suguru instinctively stuck a foot between, brandishing the newspaper cutout in front of him.

"Wait, I-"

Unfortunately, the other man did not take the time to glance at the crumpled newspaper but instead sighed and frowned.

"Look, whatever you're preaching I-" the man tried to continue. He was stopped by a politely upheld palm in front of him.

"I'm sorry. I'm Suguru Fujisaki. I'm the one who contacted you about the apartment rental. You must be my new roommate."

"You're Suguru Fujisaki? But- but you're just a kid."

"I have a guarantor. The landlord has already agreed on a rental contract with me," the thirteen-year-old boy barely hesitated as he rummaged into his satchel and drew out a carefully-folded document. "You can see it if you like." Suguru thrust the papers out towards the young man, who looked at it skeptically with a raised eyebrow before reaching out and taking them from the boy's loosened grasp.

"Well, they seem to be in order, all right." The statement was punctuated by a small sigh of resignation after a long pause. Stuffing the papers back at Suguru without caring if they had landed soundly in his grasp or on the floor, he shoved the door open. "Okay, come on in then, and oh, excuse the mess."

The mess was, in Suguru's opinion, far from one. It was a pure wake of disastrous catastrophe in the apartment. Newspaper clippings and magazines were strewn everywhere and empty packets of potato chips and instant ramen packages crowned the glorious heap of rubbish. In the middle, he could make out a faint outline of an abandoned speaker that had probably served an electric guitar until it met its due. Side-stepping the garbage as best as he could, he followed the older man toward the back of the apartment, where his room apparently was.

"You can take this room."

Much to Suguru's relief, the room was actually livable. A bare bed nestled in a corner and a narrow desk hugged the wall, taking up nearly half the tiny room. The plaster was cracked in certain places and there were unsightly yellow stains where someone had once adhered their posters and whatnot on the wall, but he was rather grateful that it was in fact, clean.

"Thank you very much, Mister-"

"Just call me Takeshi," the twenty-something-year-old replied, smiling at him to reveal a jeweled stud on his lip that Suguru had not noticed before. Brandishing his fingers like a gun, he cocked his mock gesture as a wave before leaving the boy with his room. "You really need to loosen up a bit, kid. Make yourself at home."

After Takeshi had left, Suguru walked over to the only window which faced out into a brick alley, tossing his luggage by the side, gazing out for a moment while contemplating his new life before he finally resigned to fatigue and jumped spread-eagle onto the bed, which was very different from the traditional way he slept at home. He would find that out later, when he rolled off the bed for the first few nights, but he would soon get used to it. Even as his eyelids fluttered close, he could hear his roommate plodding around the apartment. If loosening up meant living in a dump like this and having pierced lips, he would rather not venture there. Really.

* * *

Two hours later, Suguru jolted up with his heart beating wildly, wondering what had scared him into such a wakened frenzy when he realized that his roommate had decided to listen to some pop rock at its maximum volume.

Clamping a pillow over his ears, he promised himself that he would never, ever end up playing rock music in the near future. Not when the beats and proclamations of undying love from hard-up pop musicians were pounding in his eardrums every time his eyelids attempted to flutter close and his stationery clattered in protest to the ground.

He rolled over, exhausted and somehow unbelieving. The digital numbers shone back to him obediently as a lethargic hand crashed over the light button on the clock.

12:00.

Groaning, he turned back and buried himself in the cocoon of covers, exhausted and apprehensive at the same time. It took his disciplined mind to remind him that it would do him no good knowing that the next day and the day after the next, day by day, that he would have to succumb to this torture.

* * *

Time passed, and Suguru Fujisaki learned much about living in the city as well as dealing with the many challenges that came along in life. He found that the pop music that blared through his walls every night until promptly midnight was apparently a blessing in disguise, because in order to escape the daily torture, he took up night classes on music in a nearby college and spent most of his time in the library at his high school, prompting him to be able to move a grade ahead of the other students. He still wrote home once in a while and phone calls were made but rarely, usually only on festive occasions, because money was tight and asking more from his cousin who had already given him so much was beyond his pride.

The young country boy was slowly adapting to the vividly different city life, growing from a stoic child to a confident teenager with the patented angelic smile of the Seguchi family and the delicate frown that came with dealing with the inflexibilities of life.

Everyday, he walked along the busy streets of Tokyo unnoticed, merely one of the many little boys who were on their way to school, clutching the schoolbooks that the parents had forced them to bring and clad in the compulsory uniforms. Then one fateful day, he was on his way to school as usual when there was a clamouring in the streets, the usually monotonous crowd now chatting excitedly as they congregated in the middle of the pavement, heads bobbing in every direction. It appeared that the famous author, Yuki Eiri, was spotted coming out of a bookstore and many fans were now scrambling to get an autographed copy of his new book. Unable to contain his curiosity, Suguru trudged over to the edge of the crowd to see what the fuss was all about, when he was rudely shoved by a young girl brandishing a thick book.

"Ah!" Suguru exclaimed as his battered textbook fell to the ground, splattering in the mud as the unscrupulous fan ran across, stepping inadvertently on the splayed book and soaking it further in the gritty water. Leaning down to pick it up, he found that no heads had turned towards him and every eye was fixated on the charmingly handsome author.

"_Please sign my book, Eiri-san!"_

"_Oh, I can't believe it's him! I'm so lucky to be able to see him with my own eyes!"_

Sighing as he examined the sodden textbook, Suguru mentally calculated how much it would take to buy him a new one. Nothing that he could afford. He would just have to dry it and scrape as much mud off it as he could. Shoving the book into his bag vehemently, he threw a rather envious glance at the tall blond author. If only someone would notice him, if only anyone would actually care to throw a glance towards…

Shaking his head to clear himself of the distracting thoughts, Suguru quickly glanced at the time. He was going to be late if he didn't rush to school now.

* * *

Cousin Tohma always called every week to check on the young Suguru, and it had been three years now, so it was not a surprise when the phone rang at promptly six o'clock that evening while Suguru was flipping through his textbooks. After all, the musician was a very precise man. But this phone call was to be slightly different from the others.

"You're coming back to Tokyo?" was Suguru's exhilarated reply when his cousin explained everything to him over the phone. Apparently he wanted to come back to Japan to start up a music company of his own, after the band had broken up to accommodate the lead singer's solo performances.

"Hai, I'm also bringing my fiancé back with me," the smile was apparent in Tohma's voice even across the phone line. Clutching the phone, Suguru felt his heart seize slightly at the incriminating word, as if he was jealous or even envious… No, he couldn't. Sensing the long pause at the other end of the line, he hurried to think of a reply.

"Oh, congratulations." His reply was short, clipped, even as he tried vainly to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Tohma Seguchi did not become a great person in business without knowing how to read people, to sense the slightest change in tone or shift in body language as vainly as the other tried to put on a pleasing, unaffected façade. He knew that Suguru was uneasy with this arrangement and he also knew that he would be able to convince his cousin otherwise.

"I'll be able to see you more often then, Suguru-kun, if I'm stationed in Tokyo, ne? Mika-san's a great person, I'll be glad if you could meet her."

"I'll be glad to meet her as well, Tohma-san." Another falsetto, he could hear. Smiling to himself, Tohma decided to play the card that he had been keeping all along.

"Just a question before I go, could you play at our wedding?"

"Play at your wedding?" The reply was exhilarated, exuberant. Just as he expected.

"We do have a string quartet with us, but I thought that you might be able to accompany them for a few songs. Mika and I would love that. After all, where can we find any other more talented players than you? It's just a request, Suguru-kun, if you don't-"

"Of course," Suguru agreed. "Of course, I'll play at your wedding, Tohma-san. Thank you for asking me."

Tohma was caught off-guard by the interruption, but chuckled in appreciation. "Very well then, I'll call you when I get to Tokyo, okay?"

"Hai, goodbye, Tohma-san and thank you so much once again!"

"You're welcome. Take care and goodbye."

It was only when Suguru put down the phone that he realized he meant it well.

* * *

The wedding was an outdoor affair, since Tohma had decided that the spring weather in the outskirts of Tokyo would be wasted if not put to good use. Suguru had arrived early to see if he could hurl a helping hand towards his cousin, but he found that it was unnecessary. Instead, he decided to retire to the piano after tiring of mingling with the unknown business contacts and friends of his cousin.

The cream keys of the grand piano felt warm beneath his fingertips and as he played in his uncomfortable western suit, he felt himself relaxing as the silvery melodies wavered over the crowd. A few heads turned in appreciation and Tohma himself smiled gratefully from the bridegroom's corner. Suguru was smiling back when his eyes skimmed over a suited man who somehow caught his eye.

Pausing for a brief moment, he spared a nearly unaffordable moment to glance over at the man who was staring so intently at his cousin in his white tuxedo, a mixture of disappointment and admiration apparent on his face. Something about the stranger was familiar, yet all too unknown. Then, as he was about to turn back towards the black and white keys spanned before him, their eyes met.

Something was there. A huge compelling that drew him to stare at those eyes, yet a sudden urge to turn away. He tried to gaze back at those eyes, but somehow the searing lights of the chandelier seemed too bright, the gaze too intense.

He blinked.

Hazel eyes scanned the crowd once again, but the suited man wasn't found. Shaking his head to clear it from thoughts and imagination, Suguru resumed playing the tinkling notes on the piano, smiling as he saw his cousin twirl handsomely with his lovely wife in his arms.

* * *

Suguru was scanning the crowd again, and this time it wasn't for a stranger.

Self-consciously brushing the non-existent lint of the flowing graduation robes he was wearing over his school uniform, Suguru Fujisaki glanced quickly over the sea of elated parents crammed into the wooden-paneled hall. The light murmur and whisperings rose up like a wave and died down again. Men in suits and heavily-made up women were chatting animatedly to each other, and most of his classmates had already been swiped away by their proud parents for the round of back-patting and hair-ruffling; and for those slightly more reserved, a beaming smile that betrayed little but a lot. He, however, was standing by the side of the hall alone, observing the bobbing crowd intently.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw a blur of grey goose feathers flit past the entrance. Silently cursing the line of ushers that were blocking his view, he shifted towards the benches at the back, and there he was, in his prim bowler hat and ridiculous feather trench coat, smiling back at him.

Tohma Seguchi.

It seemed so long ago that he had come down to this bustling city to pursue his dream, and somehow, those four years had passed by too quickly. The music lessons in the college at night and the harrowing years at the pressuring high school seemed so far away now. All that was left were the memories collected to look back upon and laugh at.

"Will the students please move to the front?" The loud announcement shook him back into the chattering reality, and he decided that he should focus his attention on the upcoming ceremony. Straightening his gown, Suguru plodded towards the front after tossing a wave towards his smiling cousin when he realized that he should be smiling as well.

After all, he still had a graduation to attend tomorrow -- to get his music degree.

* * *

Author's note: First of all, I apologize for being the world's slowest writer. I realize that when I embark on a challenge to write a novel-length piece, I should be armed with more writing time. For those of you who reviewed, I thank you very much as it has surely brightened up my day. Thank you to Ren for her awesome beta-ing skills as well, though she only did half the beta-ing because I only managed to finished half that day. And to those of you who have been wondering what pairing this shall end up to be, I would like to say that it's a very unusual pairing that I have not seen before in the Gravitation fandom and I see much promise in it, so basically, this piece is to (hopefully) spread the love of the pairing. That is all. Reviews are much appreciated. Thank you! 


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